PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

You will demonise to
remove the grief. Keep yourself
with lotus. I'm knitting a new moon.

To disengage, don't go
too far. Can you drink your own venom?
Too pure. Voiceless. Catching red flames?

The imperial pain. You
gather the pine needles and lay on the
hands to feel the collective bites.

Amidst the chaos
I am going to search for myself. Who
are you? I will raise questions.

You make the meaning
of holistic death without any pain. Ah the
physical grief doesn't reach god.

However, crossing the
bridge on fire, not to swim the river
full of crocs for a challenge.

I was going to call
you beast without a yoke. My timeless
dust will not shut the eyes.

A lone walk reminds me
of revelation. Was it true that there
was a body to speak like us?

A lotus stands in mud
as a witness in waiting for the rise
and fall of the sun in a blue lake daily.

Will you wait for
the apocalypse, when the world
is getting ready to come to an end?

Re-digging the graves does
not bring out the dead angels
for our salvation. Are the gods untrue?

You need a powerbroker.
Black hole is widening. I stick
to antiquity to become famous.

Pink lips whisper.
It was time to part with. No more
the roses will come to salute you..

Nowhere to sit in
the garden of thumbs. Your fingers
always made the question marks.

Oh my carnivore, I
melt my agony and love in moonlight.
I was not ready for kisses.

The mercy shuns the
pain. You cross the river of grief
to find out the womb of earth.

One day you will say
goodbye and go away forever. I will
stop believing in any god.

Something was left unsaid
Where those words live which
mesmerise the drowning boat.

Held between the
explosion was my drowsiness.
Pathogenesis of flawed truth?

A picture of your
holiness comes. The words float on
the water of green eyes.

I will pick the titles
of all my poems to paste on .
totem of black goddess in pain.

Pull a trigger for
a rapture. It is like a snake bite.
There is nothing more than a kill.

The shadow love follows
me without touching. We will not
exist tomorrow. God will not undo the religion.

The bee sting writes the
poem. Tone black head becomes
white. The blood wants to stop flowing.

It was my love
embargo. After separation from you,
the passion went up. There was no other pain.

I decapitated my thumb.
The power soul stops me. The moon
ran rampant. It was dark.

This was a spacewalk.
Like writing death to the sun, who wants
to sit in the lap of Buddha.